


i can’t live (with or without you)

by axelester



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-27 08:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14421684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axelester/pseuds/axelester
Summary: Nothing to win and nothing left to lose.





	i can’t live (with or without you)

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic up on AO3! It’s short, barely has a plot but I’m happy I’m finally past this writer’s block.
> 
> Title based off of U2's song With Or Without You.

It was raining.

The pitter-patter of the rain on the window of his office was a distraction, but it wasn't as if Seán could do anything about it. So instead he turned his radio up a little louder and let the sound of him tapping his keys fill up the room.

And the intercom buzzed.

The sound of his assistant's voice mixed with the tapping of his keys and the voices on his radio. "A mister Fischbach is here to see you, sir.”

And all of a sudden he felt a lump in his throat. He tried his best to mask the hoarseness in his voice as he answered. "Send him in, please.”

And not 30 seconds later Mark Fischbach was in his office. _Mark Fischbach was in his office_.

It was quiet for a minute, with Seán trying his best to focus his attention on the screen in front of him and Mark not even bothering to try and hide the fact he was entranced. Entranced by the way Seán's stone cold eyes stayed stone cold and metaphorically created ice crystals on Mark's skin when Seán glanced at him.

Mark slowly started rubbing his underarm to find a distraction from those icy eyes, his never leaving the brown of Seán's hair.

"Hello, Mark.”

His voice was as cold as his eyes. Startled, his brown eyes flitted back over to Seán's, who was now looking at him, fingers idly dancing over the keys, never pressing one. The blue eyes made him take a small step back, his fingers absentmindedly gripping his arm a little tighter.

Mark cleared his throat, though a little awkwardly, before trying to speak. "Hi, Seán.”

The younger seemed to let out a small sigh before turning back to his monitor. "What do you want?”

Mark licked his lips and gulped; he wasn't prepared for this. He didn't think he'd get this far. "I was going through some old stuff, y'know, as one does, and I,"—he had to take a breath as not to make his voice break—"I stumbled across some old stuff, that was yours, that you forget when you left, and I was thinking that you were maybe interested in, y'know, having them back.”

And Mark mentally cursed himself and bit his lip and let his eyebrows frown just that slightest bit.

The flash of confusion in Seán's face made Mark wish he could just die right then and there, as unceremonially as possible, just so he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.

He gave a little shrug of his shoulders before pushing his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose. ”Sure, I guess.” His gaze, fallen upon Mark’s nervous expression, followed the line of his shoulders down his arms to the bag he held in his hand. “What is it?”

Mark blinked, “Oh! Right.” He turned his attention to the plastic bag, rummaging around in it with his free hand. “You left this, the day before, you know,”—he pulled out a piece of fabric—“and I know this is a few months late, but maybe you wanted to have it back.”

  
His eyes found the chair placed in front of Seán’s desk and before Seán could really say anything about it, Mark sat down with the fabric in his lap. He dropped the bag as carefully as possible and tightened his grip on the cloth.

Mark took a deep breath and slowly lifted it for Seán to see, “It’s your shirt. You know, the one I bought you at that concert. Remember?”

Seán froze up for a second, before his facial features eased into something easier, simpler, less conflicting and his eyes melting into something softer, more mellow. “Of course I remember.” He let his eyes roam back up to Mark’s.

“That was the night I realized that I,”—Mark had to gulp before continuing—“that I loved you.”

The smile slowly faded from Seán’s face again, his eyes freezing up again. He let out a harsh sigh before turning back to his monitor. “You should’ve thought about that a _little_ earlier, before, y’know,”—he glanced at Mark, a quick look that broke Mark’s heart—“you did what you did.”

Mark breathed out through pursed lips. “I know what I did and I won’t stop apologizing before you realize the mistake you made with, y’know,”—he took a breath and reached up to rub the back of his neck. His voice was small when he continued—“not forgiving me.”

Seán’s eyes turned furious, now, the ice melting to make place for something hellish, something awful that Mark wished he hadn’t released. “The mistake I made? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! You’re the one that made–”—he closed his eyes and breathed out. The fiery blue in his eyes was calmer, now, but not calm by a longshot—“You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it right now.

“What were you here for again?” He looked Mark up and down. “Just for giving back that shirt?” He sat up a little straighter to look over his desk at the plastic bag on the ground. “Or is there more? Because if there isn’t, I advise you to go now before I call secu–”

“No, there’s more,” Mark interrupted him, his hand raised up. “I just—I didn’t know how to give this back to you.”

Seán playfully raised an eyebrow, “If this is about the box we kept under the bed, you can keep all of that. I don’t need it anymore now that I’m,”—he cleared his throat—“now that I’m on my own.”

“What?” Mark blinked at him. “Oh, you meant…” he trailed off, grinning. “No, I haven’t actually done anything with that. Not yet, at least.” He shifted in his seat before continuing. “No, what I actually came here for was giving back–“ he took a small box out of the bag, covering most of it with his fingers curled around it. “This.”

With a sigh he put the small, black box on Seán’s desk, the sound of velvet hitting wood the only noise in the room. “I found this in your drawer, when I helped pack your things up.”

The first thing Seán could think of to do, was letting his face slip into an angered frown and made a grab at the object, but Mark pulled it back, just out of Seán’s reach. “Why didn’t you give it back? Why did you keep it?”

“I—I don’t actually know,” Mark mumbled. “I didn’t know what it meant, and I honestly didn’t know what to do with it.”

Seán bit his lip before muttering out, “It meant, that I was planning on proposing to you.” Mark’s head shot up, but Seán continued. “I didn’t know when, or how, but I knew that I wanted to.”

It was quiet in that room for a while. The only sounds that could be heard were the sharp intakes of Mark’s breath as he tried to calm himself down and the irregular tapping of Seán’s shoes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Seán interrupted the silence. “But how long were you planning on staying? I have to get back to work.”

Mark frowned. “I’m sorry—I can leave if you want, but I wanted to apologize.” With a small voice he added, “And ask you to, you can say no if you don’t want to, if you maybe wanted to have a cup of coffee with me.”

Seán searched Mark’s eyes for any sign of bad intentions. “You know what? Yes, I’d love to.”


End file.
